


Let The Sun Illuminate (The Words That You Could Not Find)

by HootHalycon



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst and Feels, Big Feelings Time (The Dragon Prince), Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Clothed Sex, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discussions of sexuality, Domestic Fluff, Duren (The Dragon Prince), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Emotionally Repressed, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forehead Kisses, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Sex, Naked Cuddling, Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Runaan Has PTSD (The Dragon Prince), Slow Burn, Smut, So Married, Soft Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HootHalycon/pseuds/HootHalycon
Summary: After reuniting, Runaan and Ethari join the alliance, helping out through enchanted weapons/defences, diplomacy, and an ex-assassin's grit. Necessary travels find them in Duren, where blue skies and sweet flowers have them returning to old, dust covered chapters of their union. One free afternoon, Runaan feels ready to open up again. Contains lots of feelings and discussions of trauma and its effects on sexuality.
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	Let The Sun Illuminate (The Words That You Could Not Find)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to every single one of my friends who helped me out with this along the way <3

The delicate arrangements of stone towered over the two elves in an impressive arch, housing them from the glaring beam of sun raining down on them. Hand in hand, they walked among the castle grounds of Duren, making use of each precious second the rare occurrence a day off had granted them. A combination of the heavy schedules borne to master craftsman--and, not to be forgotten, part-time enchanter--and his dedicated warrior--slash, personal bodyguard to those who needed him--mixed with the tragic snares of their past left them perpetually mindful. 

“Duren must be full of poets.” Runaan commented, his eyes wide in the same manner as they always were whenever he found something particularly astonishing. “It’s all a dream.”

Ethari moved closer, as if like a magnet. “Think you might take up visual arts?”

Subconsciously, the warrior moved into the other’s orbiting form. “It would take me years to be able to capture such beauty.” he self-pitied. “Perhaps we should look into finding an easel stand so you may try.”

Ethari’s thumb skirted against the thrumming of a beating pulse against his husband’s wrist. “A novel idea. Although, I’d have trouble tearing my eyes away from my main, captivating subject.” Trailing his hand up Runaan’s forearm, he cupped his elbow as if on cue alongside the sensation of the warrior’s opposite arm curling around his waist. Leaning forward, the two shared a brief yet tender kiss, feeling as if they could melt into each other under the warm, unmovable breeze of midday. 

The warrior lingered, keeping his arm strewn against his husband’s waist. With a skip of his heart, Ethari allowed him this, knowing the inaudible words it spoke. 

After a handful of seconds that felt longer than what was true, Runaan stepped away, suddenly very aware of how public their surroundings were. 

Noticing, the crafter squeezed his hand. “Want to go inside?”

—

The balcony held a view that painted a picture of vast greenery, stretching far into the landscape under the bright sun. Encasing the raised platform were golden bars, intricate in design and metalwork. Of course, Ethari had studied its workings on the first day he and Runaan had arrived. Trailing over the gold were fuchsia flowers, trailing in impossible directions as they perched enchantingly. 

Making use of the seating that overlooked the expanse of Duren’s countryside, the couple sat, embracing under the afternoon light. 

Runaan parted from the kiss, lingering close as his eyes remained closed. His quickly beating heart found a semblance of tranquility, as the feeling of Ethari against him swarmed his senses, gently waving away the grotesque snares of what he wished he didn’t feel. 

Stilling himself with a barely noticeable inhale, he reached for his husband’s hands in the dark. Pressing the hand to his cheek, he smiled at the sensation of Ethari winding an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Leaning into the hand pressed against his cheek, he spoke. 

"Ethari, can I tell you a secret?" he asked, sounding smaller than usual. 

Without hesitation, an answer came. "Of course." he replied. 

Bringing his hand so it rested atop the hand around his waist, he pictured his husband's warm, inviting eyes looking into his as he would confess, finding the imaginary sight easier to approach than a head first attempt. 

"Intimacy has not come easy to me since I've returned. I fear I haven't fully returned to my full self, though I have improved in other ways." he explained, sounding wiser than he would credit himself for. "During my first few months, I was more scared of returning to a deeper sense with myself than when I had just returned from a normal mission. Probing so deeply seemed impossible." 

"Could I have helped?" Ethari asked. 

"Not then. I had to trust myself first." 

"Do you trust yourself now?" 

A healthy sense of pride knocked bravery into the elf, ushering him to look into Ethari's eyes as he confessed his next truth. "I do. More than I have in a long time." he affirmed, eyes shining as he did so. A relieved exhale escaped Ethari, the familiar pride he'd felt during each positive milestone of his husband's recovery beaming through him. "I've...experimented with allowing myself to be okay with exploring deeper urges, and in satiating them. I've come to a place where I'm okay with letting my guard down for you, too." he finished. 

Ethari's eyebrows rose with pleasant surprise before his expression turned soft; pressing his forehead against Runaan's in a gesture of overwhelming love. Runaan let himself be pulled closer, gently stroking a single finger over the strong hand that anchored him. Ethari sniffled quietly as his eyes welled with tears of joy, letting himself fall apart in the best way. Runaan let him--staying as still and as close as Ethari wanted as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. 

Slightly parting from the other, Ethari wiped his tears before curling the fingers that rested around Runaan's cheek in a gentle motion as he pressed a faint kiss against his forehead. 

"You know I'm proud of you." he stated, his voice watery as he looked deep into his eyes.

"I do. It's what gives me the courage I need." 

"Oh--" he replied, his voice cutting short. "Don't make me start again." 

Trying not to laugh at the way his husband's eyebrows always knitted together before his tears would fall, Runaan soothed him with quiet hushes and smiling apologies. 

Laughing at himself, Ethari thought of how to help better understand the assassin’s experiences. “Is it okay if we talk about your experience?”

“We may. Perhaps we should go inside first?”

“Oh! We should.” he agreed. Taking his husband’s hand, he let himself be guided as Runaan pulled him to sit on their bed. Sitting next to him, he waited until the other elf pulled him close, using the potential gesture as a signal that he wanted to be held during this. To his relief, the assassin sat close enough so their knees brushed--their hands remaining linked together as Runaan draped a single leg over Ethari’s legs. As he opened his mouth to speak, Runaan sheepishly shifted himself so he sat in the craftsman’s lap, a faint blush dotting his cheeks as he did so. Ethari smiled, kissing his shoulder as he pulled him closer. 

“Would it be easier if I asked questions?”

“Much easier.” he affirmed, appreciating the guidance.

“Hmm.” he replied, looking contemplative as he tried to think of what to ask. “What did you do, exactly?”  


“I thought of you, and times in the past where we were intimate, and how much I enjoyed that.”

Ethari nodded. “And you said you satiated these urges?”

Runaan’s blush returned. “I did.”

Ethari smiled, hugging him closer. “How did this go? Was it difficult?” he asked, taking pity on him.

“It had its troubles. Staying focused on what truly makes me feel good was difficult when it’s only me. It’s easier for unwanted thoughts to occur, and this makes it turbulent.” he recalled, leaning into his husband as he did so. “Though, I’d be lying if I said it was anything short of wondrous. I felt...accomplished. Like I was taking something from me that had been stolen.”

Noticing a motion stirring below him, his eyes instinctively darted to find the reason, only to find Ethari gazing up at him with starry eyes. “That’s beautiful.” Ethari breathed. He searched his face for a second before speaking up again. “How many times have you been intimate with yourself?”

“Twice.”  


“Did it get easier the second time?”

“I think so. It was more of a normal thing, rather than a milestone; something new.”

Ethari hummed, understanding. He grinned suddenly, gently poking his husband’s ribs. “A normal thing. Hehe. While thinking of me.”

“Wha- are you twelve?” Runaan protested, trying not to laugh at Ethari’s delighted expression. 

“Nope, I’m a full grown man with a hot husband who thinks of me when he gets off, and it’s cute and hot.” he declared.

The assassin snorted, clasping a hand over Ethari’s mouth. “A full grown man who’s going to be overheard and have us kicked out of Duren by sunset. Hush, will you?”

Escaping his grasp, Ethari prevailed. “Heh heh. You and I both know they can’t hear us from down the hall, especially with these thick stone walls. In any case, you’ll have to kiss me quiet.”

A flicker of _oh, I get it_ struck Runaan, propelling him to close the distance between him and Ethari. The craftsman smiled against his lips, a warm thought breezing through his consciousness. He hoped to convey all his admiration into their kiss; the confession that had just been delivered to him was not an easy one to retrieve, and he knew--though not first hand--that such a feat was worthy of recognition and praise. He felt himself swell with joy at both the sensation of the embrace and his husband’s unmalleable inner strength. It’d taken months for him to begin to take a hold on the devastating events that had left him at a loss in many ways neither of them could have accounted for. Knowing he had taken the many different challenges head on and begun to recollect pieces of his normal self back was both comforting and sexy.

The assassin parted his lips, allowing Ethari to glide his tongue against his, causing the receiver to moan pleasurably. Ethari hummed before parting from his lips, smirking. “You’re more vocal than I remember.”

Runaan all but chased his lips. “Come here.” he ordered, lifting his husband’s chin. Ethari’s muffled laugh met his lips, his chest tightening at the sounds the assassin made against him. He lowered his grasp, squeezing his ass lightly, teasing him, knowing he’d beg for more. Runaan rocked his hips against Ethari’s, knocking the breath out of himself as he did so. 

“You alright?” Ethari asked, searching his face.

Runaan nodded, smiling softly at the thoughtful concern. He kissed him again, more gently this time, relishing in the feeling of being so close with him after such a long while. Sure, they had made out since returning to each other, but this was different. An event such as this had a potential to become more, unlike the previous instances in which they had to end their kissing for fear of it becoming too much too soon. But now, Runaan had finally arrived at a place where he felt fully confident in taking the steps needed to go all the way. 

Feeling as his confidence gave him a boost, he moved his hand so it covered Ethari’s. The other elf took the cue, gripping his ass harder than before. “That’s what I like.” Runaan breathed, securing Ethari’s jaw in his grasp before kissing him pointedly. 

“And what else do you like?” Ethari purred, voice scratchy from heavy kissing as he sunk his teeth into his neck. 

“Your hands in other places, admittedly.” he replied, attempting to keep his tone even.

“As always. Is that all?” he asked, his question genuine.  
“For now, yes.” he replied, the softness returning to his tone. 

Ethari continued marking his neck, giving his bum one final squeeze before trailing his hands so they traveled in between his shoulder blades. Reaching backwards, he hooked his forearm underneath Runaan’s knees, using the leverage to carefully maneuver the assassin off of his lap. 

Runaan instinctively linked his arms around his husband’s neck, defying his artificial hesitance as he allowed himself to be carried by him. The false feelings of needing complete control were not easily overcome, but he did his best to remain rational in the face of arising, yet unwanted thoughts.

Detaching himself from the pale skin of his neck, Ethari silently observed his husband’s expression as he guided him. He appeared unphased--almost completely relaxed in his arms, save for the occasional tensing of muscles, evident in the way the bones of his sternum shifted against his skin more prominently at some moments than others. Firming the hand against his shoulders, he shifted his grasp into any soothing way he could muster, affirming that his touch was always one that was gentle; loving.

Just before Runaan’s head hit the pillow, Ethari spoke. “Here, let me fix the pillows for you.” he whispered, arranging the multitude of pillows the couple had graciously received as a symbol of gratitude, as instructed from the Queen herself. The craftsman formed something of a nest; the pillows now evidently favouring his husband’s side of the bed as they completely cushioned him from the neck up. 

Lying against the bed, Runaan allowed himself a few seconds for himself to process his surroundings from his new point of view. He was undoubtedly in a vulnerable position, and so he paused. Expectedly, a tightness wound itself into his chest, attempting to force itself through the rest of him. Resisting its upheaval, he closed his eyes, only to be jerked [eyes open] by the feeling of somebody looming over him. He gasped, a single hand flying to clutch at the sheets of the bed for leverage as he shot upwards.

Quick to help, Ethari jumped in. “Hey, hey, shhh, it’s just me.” he soothed, gently lifting his hand so Runaan had a view of the back of his hand. The assassin inhaled deeply, brushing his cheekbone against the faint touch of Ethari’s fingers. With feather-light caresses, he continued his motions until the stressed expression on his husband’s face evened into one of calmness. “There, much better. You’re doing wonderful.” he praised, his voice almost at a whisper. “How about that hand? Let’s soften it, love. Is that okay?”

A moment passed. A nod. 

“Great. I’m here with you, nothing can hurt you.” continuing his affirmations, he shifted his grasp so his fingers brushed through the softness of his hair, gently arranging it away from his face. He kept his gaze on Runaan as he heard the movements of the sheets as they were released from his grip, watching a collection of emotions flicker across the assassin’s expression as he fought his inner turmoil. 

With his hands free, Runaan inhaled deeply, feeling as if he could fully breathe again. The ominous tightness from before slowly eased away, leaving him with a slight twinge of embarrassment and guilt. Looking a little too observant of the frayed bed sheets that he’d previously clung to, he frowned; ruminating. 

Unable to let his husband spiral in an endless cycle of negative thoughts, Ethari placed his free hand so it rested underneath his chin, gently guiding him so he looked at him--only him. “That was very brave of you, you’re doing amazing, and no small reaction can change that.”

“I’d hardly call that a small reaction.” He replied, self pitying.

“Whatever the case, you’re still here--participating, and opening up. Doing your best. Reactions are to be expected. What matters is that you’ve come this far.” He tried.

“I just wish it was easier.”

Ethari’s heart fell in his chest. He wished he could take away all the unwanted feelings and negative perceptions his husband had stewing in his head; those that afflicted him all for reasons he couldn’t control. His wish to remove this pain was not out of self-gain, but out of not wanting to see his husband in such turmoil with something that should be beautiful and liberating. He slowly leaned forward, not wanting himself to accidentally appear as a threat. Closing a kiss on Runaan’s forehead, he lingered there before lowering himself so he could look the other in the eye. 

“I do too. Just look into my eyes, it’ll be okay. Okay?”

Looking sad, Runaan pulled himself out of his rumination, knowing that doing otherwise would only make it worse. Gazing into Ethari’s eyes, he couldn’t help but smile a little, despite himself. Ethari mirrored his emotion, smiling warmly right back at him. He leaned forward again, kissing his lips this time in a loving, warm embrace. Runaan kissed him back, sighing against his lips as his hands rose to hold him by his shoulders. The two kissed until they were almost breathless--the point at which the assassin remembered something important. 

“Ethari, there’s one other thing I must tell you.” He began. The taller elf paused to listen; expression open and welcoming. 

Runaan opened his mouth to speak before closing it once more, a blush appearing on his cheeks again. Looking away, he was gently redirected; the elf before him looking at him with a knowing expression. 

“Remember what I said, my love.” Ethari chided.

Runaan stifled a small laugh, removing his husband’s hand from his chin and kissing the back of his hand. “These matters are unrelated to my inner troubles. They’re more...intimate.”

Realization struck him. “Oh. ohhh. My mistake.”

The assassin only chuckled fondly, bringing the hand in his to his cheek, pressing his face against the familiar warmth. “You’re forgiven. I’d remembered something I did to aid myself as I eased into the unfamiliarity of being intimate with myself once again. I used to be afraid that the moment my hands would travel below my waist, my anxiety would spike and the thoughts would occur before I could fix them. And so, when I decided I wanted to open up to myself again, I made sure I was comfortable with how it felt when I placed my hand on my bare waist, for example.”

Ethari hummed thoughtfully. “That’s very thoughtful. Did it help?”

“It helped very much. I fear I would’ve done more harm than good if I had rushed in.” 

“And for that wisdom, you get a kiss.” he smiled, pressing his spare palm into the bed as he inched closer; the two elves smiling as their lips met in a short kiss.

Parting from him, he looked into his eyes. “Would you like to do this test again, but this time, with my touch?”

Runaan nodded. “I would greatly appreciate that.”

“You have my word. I’ll be very patient, and don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I’m here for you.”

Leaning his cheek into Ethari’s open hand again, he closed his eyes and inhaled, soaking in every bout of his husband’s kind, unconditional love. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Ethari responded, taking the elf’s other hand in his before gently squeezing it. “Would you like to undress yourself, or may I?”

Runaan contemplated this for a moment. “You may. Though, I’d prefer to keep my shirt on.”

Confusion hit Ethari before he had a moment of realization, quickly understanding why Runaan felt that way. Giving his hand one more squeeze, he gently lowered Runaan so he was reclined against the pillows once more; encouraging and soothing him all the while. When he was finally in a relaxed position, Ethari kissed his forehead before scaling downwards, where he looped his thumbs into the waistband of the assassin’s green pants. Looking up for a quick confirmation, his heart rate increased at the sight of Runaan’s confident nod. Slowly unravelling the tight pants from Runaan’s form, he smiled to himself as he recognized the very visible difference between the other’s panic and anticipation--the latter of which was taking form right that moment. 

The breath left Ethari’s chest; enamoured. “You’re beautiful. So beautiful. Then, and now.” His tone was quiet, yet firm with heavy meaning--one he couldn’t simply put into words. "So soft and strong." he murmured, running a spare hand down the length of the assassin's pale leg. 

Runaan squirmed, feeling the knots in his stomach tighten at the sight of his husband by his abdomen. Ethari’s words caused a stirring in his heart, a gentle melody of blissful song awakening a benevolent storm. His bare legs shivered against the open air that was followed by the occasional breeze shifting the bedroom’s curtains before adjusting to the environment. “Hff...Ethari…”

“Almost there, love.” he reassured, dropping a small kiss to the elf’s knee. Pulling the fabric beneath his ankles, he delicately placed them on the vacant side of the bed. A moment passed and he watched as his husband’s expression flickered from appearing occupied to slowly opening up again, without strain. Taking this as his cue, Ethari rose on his knees, hovering over Runaan. 

Bringing one hand to cup the other’s chin, Ethari placed kisses along Runaan’s face, ignoring the way his own stomach jumped in excitement at the assassin’s breathy gasps.

“You’re so good for me...so brave and willing.” he praised, his breath ghosting the skin of his husband’s ear. “You deserve to feel good just like everybody else.” 

Runaan sighed, gazing at Ethari with a wistful expression--one that held an insurmountable hurt inside it, as if the other had unearthed an unknown wound. Noticing this, Ethari moved in closer, gently pressing his nose to his before kissing along the indigo stripes. “You deserve to feel beautiful and free; unshackled by what you can’t help.”

Runaan’s chest felt like it could cave at any moment. He felt more bare than he could conceive; stripped bare in a way that healed his soul at the same time. Ethari knew, always knew what to do and what to say. A small part of him envied the elf’s intuitive nature and comfort with utter gentleness, but a larger part of him--one that made him feel small in comparison--loved him with all he had. A single tear trickled down his pale cheek, one that Ethari caught with a feather light brushing of the backs of his fingers. 

“Easy, moonlight. It’s okay, let it out. Maybe I should hold off on deep, profound statements until later.” he laughed quietly, earning a watery chuckle from his husband. 

Runaan leaned in to kiss him, a quiet surge of desperation clutching at his insides as Ethari’s lips melded against his. “You're forgiven. Again.” he murmured, gently nibbling the other’s bottom lip.

Ethari smiled. “So kind.” he teased, delicately brushing his nose against Runaan’s in a single motion. “You’re fine?”

“Mhmm.” Runaan murmured, a lazy smile on his face. “I’m ready.”

Moving downwards, Ethari maintained eye contact as he hovered over his husband’s waist; that which was covered only by his underwear. Similarly to before, he languidly discarded the garment from the other’s body. He silently hoped the eager anticipation within him that had increased at the sight of his husband’s erect middle was scarcely as apparent as it felt, for his own pride’s sake. Trying not to stare, his eyes flickered from Runaan’s face and to where his clothes had parted from his body. Runaan’s chest rose and fell with his growing arousal; the length of time they’d taken suddenly catching up to him. 

“You were right when you said you were ready.” Ethari teased, eyeing the other’s erection with a mischievous expression.

Runaan’s cheeks burned, stifling his laugh. “Well, what did you expect?” 

“You’re right, I am really good at what I do. Wouldn't you say so?”

The ex-assassin groaned. “Yes, yes. You’re wonderful.” 

Ethari made a sound of amusement. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Runaan exhaled through his nose, chuckling quietly. “Now you’re flattering me.”

“It comes naturally, my love.” the craftsman cooed, bringing his hand to caress his husband’s waist before hesitating; remembering. “Ah, we should start that. I’ll just put my hand on your waist?”

Runaan nodded. “A good place to start.” He affirmed, taking a deep breath before nodding to Ethari. 

Ethari gently lowered his hand so it rested in between the hem of green fabric and his husband’s warm skin, which felt warm to the touch. He remained welcoming yet respectful of the other elf’s autonomy; understanding he needed to figure out his feelings on his own before Ethari could give input. Watching as Runaan let his eyes shut--a sight that brought the warmth of pride within him--he remained silent. He heard the ex-assassin take a collection of steadying breaths; immediately recognizing the similarities between his current state and the one he took during meditation. 

With a surprisingly serious voice, he spoke. “You can move your hand.”

Ethari followed his instruction, trailing his hand against Runaan’s upper thigh; the roughness of his weathered hand laying flat against the other’s unmarked skin. The ex-assassin’s cheeks burned, his desire threatening to interrupt his introspection. 

He willed his distractions aside, attempting to consider how comfortable he felt in the moment, and what that meant for him. The sensation of Ethari’s hand on his exposed hip felt familiar, like it’d never been kept away for the many months of recovery that it had been. 

“You could...move your hand, though, not away.” he explained, wanting to be sure that he was completely comfortable. The other made a sound of approval, slowly caressing the soft skin.

“Inner thigh?” 

Runaan sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

Ethari hummed in response, watching his hand as it travelled closer inwards, gently tracing patterns into the pale skin of his husband’s thigh. His breath caught in his chest at just how delicate the elf looked, and how sorely he had missed this. His chest constricted at each gasp and shuddery breath Runaan exhaled, causing his heart to beat faster within its warm chambers as he was struck with the weighted gravity of how sorely they’d both missed each other. His head almost began to spin, plunged by the heat growing in his stomach. He moved his hand outwards, watching as the tension on Runaan’s face dissipated, almost as if he were disappointed. Ethari’s stomach dipped; closely on the same page as the other. 

“Ah, how about we...move upwards?” he asked.

Steadying himself, Runaan opened his eyes. “Should be alright. Not quite the centre but...near.” 

“Mmhmm. Sounds good.” his hand skirted towards the elf’s groin, slowing in favour of giving Runaan all the time he needed. An unfavourable feeling crept onto the ex-assassin, but he allowed it to occur without reacting harshly. Part of him wished it didn’t happen at a moment where he was supposed to feel only bliss and love, but he did his best to not let it phase him. 

He felt Ethari place his hand in the space a few inches below the hem of his shirt, lower than where a pair of low rise pants would meet his waist. Ethari had touched him somewhere so deeply, and it was okay. Thoughts scattered amongst his mind--positive and negative, and yet, below all the turmoil sitting on his chest, he felt okay. Utterly protected and cared for. The kaleidoscope of broken glass of his older, more withdrawn self shattered behind his eyes as he closed them, shimmering miles away as he gravitated into Ethari’s touch.   
“There, isn’t it nice?” Ethari asked, further solidifying what Runaan had known all along. 

Runaan breathed, settling into the feeling of bliss that had overtaken him. Accompanied only by the occasional feelings of desire that had slowly begun to grow stronger, he couldn’t help but smile, unable to help the utter fondness he felt for his husband, and for each warm and impassioned embrace they shared. “Feels like...an old memory. Sweeping my senses, knocking me dizzy while sweetening my mind; promising security and only something I’ve grown more than comfortable within.”

Ethari shook his head as an inalienable fondness warmed him from the inside out. Reaching forward with his other free hand, he shooed away the stray hairs flaring across his forehead before tucking the thick strand of hair behind his ear. “Of course you’d say that, you poet.”

“How could any man resist the temptation to turn your love into art?” he reasoned, the flames in his stomach growing even before his gaze had flitted to his husband’s lips. Unabashedly, he bit his own lip as he yearned for contact, unafraid of how eager he seemed. 

Finding it impossible to pass up, Ethari leaned forward, capturing Runaan’s lips in a heated kiss, biting at each other’s lips with a desire overflowing with readiness, utterly tempting in its fulfilment. The warrior clutched at the other’s jaw, holding him steady as the two embraced, only softening as the kiss went on and inevitably turned sweeter; both of them dissolving into knowing, satisfied smiles. 

“All this poetry makes me believe you might be ready. Am I correct?” Ethari asked, his wide smile evident in his tone.

Runaan pressed one, two more kisses against his lips. Just as he was about to reply with utter confidence, the muscles of his stomach contracted, causing his heart to flutter with a newfound speed. Quickly understanding what was happening, he immediately shunned it, not wanting it to happen yet--not like this. “Ah, I’m--I don’t want to.” he stuttered, suddenly sounding small. 

Ethari looked confused before piecing together what was happening to the elf below him. Despite having seen him like this many times before, this reaction of Runaan’s to his oncoming climax was unlike ones before. He seemed lost, as if he were falling with nothing to catch onto to save him from falling into the abyss. Runaan’s chest rose and fell in a panic, desperately wishing his body wasn’t reacting when he didn’t want it to. 

Immediately giving him space, Ethari rose, nearly straightening as he stayed by his husband's side. “Hey, okay, just breathe. Relax your muscles for me.” his eyes darted between the elf’s expression--strained and filled with tension, to his body, which shared a similar fate. “Easy, slow down. It’s okay. Just focus on my voice.”

Runaan’s mind zoned in on his husband’s comforting, low voice, picturing each soothing word as the engravings he was known to carve into the blades he so carefully crafted. Weaving in between the ruins characterized by harrowing thoughts about being out of control, he found solace in his thoughts. He forced his muscles to relax as his determination tricked his body into taking a deep breath, slowly steadying him from the sudden, jarring upheaval. 

“There, that’s good. Almost there.” Ethari murmured, watching as the ex-assassin's body slowly relaxed underneath him. Runaan went to take another breath, though not before sliding his fingers in between the other’s as he did so. 

A few seconds passed before Ethari spoke up again. “All good?”

Opening his eyes, Runaan nodded. “I’m okay now. Could we...be silent for a few moments before beginning again?”

Ethari squeezed his hand. “Yes, we can. Come here.” Laying beside him, he opened his arms for the other to crawl into. As he did so, the taller elf pressed his nose into his hair, gently rocking him as they absorbed the peaceful silence. Runaan burrowed in closer, feeling the weight of his husband’s unconditional love and care in his warm grasp. He intertwined his bare leg with his, closing his eyes as the soft fabric of his pants brushed against his skin. 

Moments of solace provided Runaan with a clear head, pushing him back to his true vision of what he’d wanted. He wanted Ethari--truly and wholeheartedly. No mental block could authentically harm that desire, nor could it part the two of them for too long. 

And it had been too long. 

He angled himself to press kisses against Ethari’s jaw, admiring his defined features. Starting out quiet, they soon turned heated, as the ex-assassin began biting along his dark skin, creating dark purple marks that he would the other elf would have to hide the next time the couple went out. Ethari reciprocated immediately, holding onto the warrior’s waist as heat sprouted in his stomach once more, causing his grip to tighten.

“Now?” he asked, his voice wavering.

An answer came almost immediately “Now.” 

The craftsman parted him from where the two had been attached, carefully setting him back in his previous position. He ran his hand up Runaan’s bare thigh, stopping to rub tantalizing circles into his waist. “You’re so ready for me, so eager.”

Runaan’s lips parted, his cheeks flushed with a level of arousal he couldn’t put into words. Ethari took advantage of his thinly parted lips, pressing his thumb against the rouge flesh before sliding his tongue behind his teeth. Sealing a kiss, he felt sweat accumulate on his brow as they embraced. Parting from his lips, he slid his hand downwards, remaining agonizingly slow until he finally reached his husband’s cock. Wrapping his hand around the erection, he began to work the shaft, sliding his hand up and down, applying even pressure through its entire form. 

Runaan shook, gripping the sheets as his back nearly arched off of the bed. His entire body responded to Ethari’s touch before any unruly feelings or thoughts would dare intervene. 

“You’re having fun already.” the craftsman remarked, feeling himself grow harder at the sight of Runaan deep in the throes of pleasure.

“Mmf, your hands...are too good.” he stammered.

“Better make the council put some regulations on them then?”

Runaan groaned. “If it means I don’t meet my demise from them, then yes.” 

“Lucky for you, these hands’ part time job is making you feel good. Even you can’t deny you love that.” he teased, skirting his thumb over the head of the elf’s cock.

This time, Runaan’s hips did rise off the sheets--in tandem with a breathy sound he hardly had the chance to think over before it’d emerged. “Fuck, you got me.”

Ethari chuckled. “Happy to make your all-knowing, all-loving acquaintance.” 

The warrior couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that--one that was quickly interrupted by his jaw dropping as his husband’s hand continued working. His grip held accuracy and temptation, as Runaan felt every fuse come alive within him, all igniting and responding only to Ethari’s touch. He fought the urge to climb completely into the craftsman’s lap as his limbs inevitably drew closer to him. Intertwining his leg with his, the warrior panted at the sensation of the elf’s muscles flexing against his own leg, barely holding in his sounds of pleasure as he did so. 

“Can’t even hold it in, can you? You’ve been waiting so long for me, getting yourself ready, all perfect and eager.” Ethari rasped, drawing impossibly close to Runaan’s ear as he spoke. “Made sure you could lay here, open and willing for me to make you feel good.” 

His voice sent shivers down the warrior’s spine while simultaneously expelling warmth throughout him. The barrage of sensations Ethari was providing failed to become overwhelming, as Runaan simply tipped his head back while pressing a hand into the elf’s chest, holding on for leverage. Having his voice in such close proximity as it currently was, strangely enough, aided him in preventing unwanted feelings from becoming too strong. For that, he was grateful. 

“Not afraid to grab, are you?” the taller elf murmured, digging his teeth into the thin skin of Runaan’s ear. 

The warrior hissed, responding by digging his leg into the back of Ethari’s, pulling him closer. Humouring him, Ethari applied more pressure to his cock, pressing and arching his hand just the way he knew the other elf had previously enjoyed. 

Runaan sucked in a breath. “You’re one to talk about grabbing.” 

He clenched his stomach muscles, squeezing his husband’s pec under his grip as a chain reaction. Ethari gasped against the shell of his ear, causing the ex-assassin’s mind to spiral with arousal. He resisted the urge to pull the assassin’s hair, knowing it might cause an unfavourable reaction. He put the thought into working against the shaft of his cock, pulling roughly before slowing to a tantalizing pace. 

“Tell me how it feels.” he drawled.

Runaan moaned, breathing shakily before kissing Ethari messily, the two biting at each other’s lips in between sounds of pleasure. The taller elf pulled away, slotting a hand under Runaan’s jaw as he worked on making his neck resemble his own.

“It feels…” the ex-assassin tried, quietly chiding himself for how staggered he sounded. “So good.” 

After embedding a dark mark into his husband’s pale skin, Ethari softened, moving to gently kiss his jaw. His hand continued to mimic the new pace; his grip tightening and loosening at the rhythm of every second heartbeat. Bringing his spare hand to cup the warrior’s cheek, he watched as Runaan’s eyes fluttered from behind his eyelids--a small sign of his mind briefly travelling to other, unfavourable places. Ethari gently traced the skin around his eyes, dipping his thumb into the barely noticeable sunken crevice underneath his husband’s eye. 

Runaan immediately leaned into the touch; his bright blue eyes looking deep into Ethari’s own. He smiled, trailing his hand from the crafter’s chest to his shoulders to the nape of his neck, his heart stuttering with gentle, irrevocable affection all the while. Tangling his fingers in the elf’s choppy hair, his languid movements became staggered with each strategic movement of his husband’s hand. 

Coaxing Ethari closer by a gentle caress to the back of his calf, he watched him closely, quietly revelling in the encompassing beauty of everything he had to offer. He dragged his fingers along the base of the elf’s skull, quietly laughing to himself as Ethari’s eyelids lowered ever so slightly at the soothing gesture. 

“Kiss me, please.” the warrior asked. 

Ethari obliged, smiling as he closed in on the elf below him, sealing his lips against his in a more tame kiss. He sighed, stroking Runaan’s cheekbone as they kissed before parting to embrace him at a new angle, kissing him deeper this time. The warrior followed easily, leaning in closely as a feeling of floating swept over him, with the only things anchoring him belonging to Ethari, and only him. 

He parted from the kiss, grounding himself with a delayed nip to the elf’s bottom lip. Ethari chuckled, affectionately rubbing his nose against the other’s. He tightened his grip on Runaan’s cock, applying pressure before loosening almost completely, smirking devilishly as the warrior’s lips parted underneath his own, stirring a storm of heat inside of him.

“Mmff, fuck, more please.” he breathed, lowering his hand so he could clutch at the crafter’s shirt. Ethari acted quickly, following his words as he stroked the elf’s shaft, continuing the motions he knew would work in the warrior’s favour. With mind numbing accuracy, he adjusted his speed to a quickened pace, watching with a twinge of pleasure as the ex-assassin writhed underneath his grasp. 

Runaan moved his arm to muffle his impassioned sounds before impulsively deciding against it, gaining a sense of indulgence as he mentally noted that he deserved this and each reaction it’d garner from him. His eyes shut at the sensation of the crafter’s fingers working up to the head of his cock, the knots in his stomach tightening pleasurably. Still clutching Ethari’s crop top, his knuckles whitened against the dark fabric, neither elf paying any mind to the array of wrinkles that would undoubtedly be visible later.

“Are you close?” Ethari asked, forgoing caring for the possibility of sounding oblivious. 

Runaan pulled him closer, eyes still shut. “I-I am.” he responded.

“Do you want to finish?”

“Yes please.”

Ethari moved in closer, returning to his previous position, where his voice remained in close proximity to the warrior’s ear. “You’re doing amazingly for me, you deserve this. It’s safe here, finish for me, and for you. You deserve this.” His pace continued to increase, guiding Runaan towards his climax. He shot a glance at his expression, his own heart rate increasing as he took in the sight of his sweat slicked face. Focusing his attention, he sunk his teeth into the length of his ear. “So good for me.” 

Runaan swore under his breath, feeling a sense of accomplishment as his muscles untensed, finally delivering him to his release. He returned to a similar state of floating as he had previously experienced, only much more intense this time. His hips stuttered as his breaths drew out before repeating, the air in his chest never quite seeming to fully escape. Despite the incompleteness of his breaths, the ex-assassin felt completely blissful; a small part of him taking note of Ethari’s delicate touch that combed through his hair with even strokes as he finished. 

The crafter soon forgot his own pent up arousal as he witnessed his husband enveloped in complete pleasure. He had gone so long without seeing Runaan in a state such as this, one that was worlds different from any relaxed or joyful state he was lucky to witness the elf experience. The utter vulnerability of the entire occurrence always struck Ethari with a breathtaking affliction, leaving him enthralled in ecstasy while enchanting him with each new touch and engrossed breath.

In this moment, he only felt complete tenderness for the ex-assassin, drinking in each of his elongated breaths that had been figuratively building for just over a year. He continued stroking his hair, leaving it to the side so it wouldn’t bug him--wanting him to feel as good as possible. 

“Did that feel good, my love?” Ethari whispered, gently scratching at his husband’s scalp before running his hand through the long hair. 

Runaan sunk into the pillows, feeling the softness brush each centimetre of skin that his shirt failed to cover. He thought of how to put his feelings into words, how to begin to process the monumental milestone he had just reached, all with Ethari’s unconditional love beside him, aiding him. 

“That was the best I’ve felt...in a while.” he observed, unsure of whether to look into Ethari’s deep, caring sunset eyes, the ceiling--to better focus his senses--or in quiet bashfulness at the mess he’d made of both his own and his husband’s shirt. 

The crafter smiled at the slightly haphazard look in Runaan’s eyes. “Shh, just let it sink in. You did so well.” A small smile crept onto the warrior’s face, one that Ethari returned as easily as breathing. He drew closer, pressing a chaste kiss against his forehead. “I’ll go get something to clean you with. I’ll be back, okay?”

Runaan made a sound of understanding, his smile still framing his face. Ethari stood, walking over to the bathroom adjacent to the door to the main living room of the suite. Opening the door, he quickly caught sight of a pile of handheld towels, grabbing one to wipe down his own shirt before collecting two more for his husband. The crafter moved his arms as he reached downwards to discard his shirt before hesitating, not wanting Runaan to get the wrong idea--as if he now owed him something--the next time he saw him. 

Returning back to their bedroom, he reached their bed, gently sitting next to the still dazed elf. Pouring over him, Ethari cleaned up the dampness spread across the thin fabric, pretending not to notice his husband’s gaze gone sheepishly gone amiss. Biting his cheek to keep himself from smiling at Runaan’s endearing self, he put away the soiled towel, tossing it into a nearby bin. With his other hand, he gathered up the other hand cloth, gently pressing his hand to the warrior’s jaw to steady him. Feeling his insides leap as their eyes met, he brought the soft fabric to his husband’s damp face, lightly dabbing away the moisture that had accumulated during their encounter. His shoulders evened out, a cooling ease spreading through him as the two maintained their gazes, Runaan’s eyes growing half lidded as the material soothed his skin. Ethari pressed into his skin before raising his hand a few inches higher, carefully setting away loose strands of the warrior’s hair before returning to his task. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he whispered, just quiet enough for the both of them to hear. His smile grew wider as he spoke, as if the words elicited a newfound spark of magic within him. 

Runaan contemplating leaning forward, tempted to seal a kiss against his husband’s lips before resigning himself to allowing the elf to continue his task. He put his thought into leaning into each gentle touch Ethari gave him--carefully chosen through the direction of his unending, unconditional love. He breathed in, steadier than his previous breaths, cringing slightly at the unsightly smell radiating from his face. Remembering Ethari’s words, he quirked a smile. “How kind of you to find me beautiful in this state.” 

Ethari laughed under his breath, looking at his husband with an impossibly fond expression. “It’s not too different from how you are after training, is it?”

Now it was Runaan’s turn to laugh. “A very Moonshadow observation.” he praised. 

Dropping a faint kiss into the top of the warrior’s hair, the crafter cleaned the remainder of his husband’s face before setting the towel aside, placing his hand under the warrior’s chin so their eyes met. “I’ll tell you my own secret. The fact is, I find you especially beautiful like this. Not because you’re exposed, or very handsome.” he began, his smile growing wider at the latter half of his sentence. “But because you seem more free than you did before, and each step of watching you heal has been profoundly rewarding.” 

Runaan brightened. “I feel the part as well. You ought to feel accomplished, we both know you’ve played a great part in this journey.” Grasping the hand under his jaw, he kissed the back of it--hoping the simple gesture would communicate the words he struggled to find. 

“You never let me forget.” Ethari affirmed; his steady gaze soon cut off by a swift snort. “That’s the hand that held the sweaty towel.”“Oh I don’t care. I’ve held your hand to my lips after you dug in the soil.” he remarked, bringing the hand to his cheekbone before nuzzling into it to prove his point. 

Affectionately caressing the elf’s knuckles, Ethari conceded. “Okay, lover.” The memory of his previous idea to take off his dirty shirt crossed his mind, causing him to reconsider it. “Moonlight, is it alright if I take my own shirt off? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s alright. I think I may do the same as well.” 

“Race you there.” he joked. 

The two discarded their shirts, their quiet smiles a product of the shared fondness that hung in the air. Colliding in the air before they touched down, their shirts sat in the bin, ready to be washed later. Runaan sighed, as if glad to have finally gotten rid of the garment. They fell into the bedding as if in sync, wrapping their arms around each other as the breeze danced over their bare torsos. Looking deep into each other’s eyes for a moment, they drank in the moment of pure solace, feeling as if they’d entered a space that was timeless and limitless in both beauty and life itself. Runaan shifted, pressing his face against the crook of Ethari’s neck, a feeling of calmness immediately warming his skin. 

Dipping his nose into the top of his husband’s hair, the crafter dropped kiss after kiss onto his head, smiling into each one.

“You’re doting.” Runaan murmured, his smile evident in his tone despite Ethari not being able to prove the fact. Before the other elf could respond, the ex-assassin’s fingers crept to his ribcage, digging into his dark skin in a lazy attack. 

Ethari flinched, remaining steadfast despite his husband’s teasing. “Mhmm. Doting on a beautiful, soft elf. You deserve to be fawned over.”

Runaan made a muffled sound, incoherent in that it was more so a product of an oncoming rush of feelings and a lack of speech. His fingers eased, slowing down as they went from a feigned offended gesture to one of tenderness; gently stroking the elf’s wide ribcage. 

A laugh bubbled in Ethari’s chest, apparent only to him in the way his insides danced with amusement. “I’m so proud of you. I’m unsure if words can capture it.” he murmured, bringing one hand to affectionately stroke where his lips had previously laid. “The depths of your heart are astounding, and it shows in everything you do, and try to do.” 

Looking up, his chest warmed at the sight of Ethari’s deep, loving gaze--so much so that for a second, Runaan was unsure if he was still wearing his shirt or not. The assassin’s open expression appeared so deeply vulnerable and pried open. 

“Those kind eyes.” Ethari began before making a soft sound. “I could look at them all day. So honest and loving. They tell me everything I need to know--whether you’re scared, elsewhere, or very in love.” 

“You bring it out in me. You make me want to be vulnerable.” he admitted. 

The crafter smiled, holding Runaan closer in a close hug. “I feel so lucky.”

Runaan leaned into the hug, accepting every bit of peace and comfort it generously offered. A minute passed, and a pleasantly surprising thought crossed his mind. “Ethari, I fear it might be silly of me to say this, but I feel the same way I did when we’d first made love.” he confessed, taking note of the way his husband’s hand had lowered to trace the skin of his hips. 

Ethari pressed his cheek against his head, smiling. “Really?”

A moment of insecurity crept onto the elf. “Sure, it’s a milestone and all that-” he stammered, searching for the right explanation.

The crafter only held him closer, kissing along the top of his head once more. “That’s adorable. I see what you mean, I feel new again, like something has changed for the better.”

Runaan sighed with relief. “Although,” Ethari continued, “I should hope you feel better, knowing my technique has improved.”

Shaking with a bout of laughter, the warrior shook his head. “I feel better than I did years ago, for many reasons. I assume you’ll be glad to know your years of crafting don’t harm your technique either.”

A beat of silence passed before both elf’s bodies quaked with the vigor of Ethari’s hearty laugh, the warrior hesitating to feel sorry for the way the crafter squeezed him closer in his stupor. “You...think my crafting helps my sex life?”

Runaan snorted. “I don’t think, I know.” he said self-assuredly. 

Ethari only laughed harder, lowering his hand to playfully pinch his husband’s hip. “I guess it’d improve the accuracy of my hands.” 

Flinching against the elf’s fingers, a low chuckle thrummed through him, vibrating through both of their bodies. “Mhm. Exactly that.” Runaan confirmed, looking up at Ethari with half lidded eyes. He could’ve sworn he heard the crafter summon a sliver of extra breath before leaning in to steal an--unfortunately--chaste kiss. 

Resisting the urge to deepen the kiss, Runaan pulled away. “Speaking of working hard, would you like some water?”“Are you calling me thirsty?” Ethari quipped, raising an eyebrow.“I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

Ethari’s jaw dropped, staring at his husband in feigned surprise before poking the elf’s nose. “You’re frisky, even after I’ve pleasured you. Also, yes, I would.”

Runaan smirked, pecking the finger atop his nose with a wink before turning to the bedside table, grabbing his empty glass before leaving the bed to reach the water pitcher. Still in bed, the crafter watched eagerly as each muscle in the ex-assassin’s back was on full display, sadly partially obscured by the lack of sunlight. Fractions of movement offered some glints of light, granting him a lithe view of brightness casting a sharp edge against his edges. His heart stuttered in his chest; finding himself unable to let his eyes part from the enchanting sight before him. The elf lifted his arm to pour the refreshing drink into the tall glass, earning Ethari a view of the muscles of his arm as they tightened and loosened with his motions. He gasped quietly, feeling the heat within him grow warmer at the sight. Letting his gaze drift along his tall frame, his eyes fell to the bottom of the elf’s long hair, catching a peek of his bum as the elf turned to return to bed. 

Pretending not to notice, Runaan kneeled into bed, handing the glass over to Ethari before twining his leg with his, dropping his head to rest against his shoulder. He closed his eyes, letting himself find peace in the simple movements that played out under his cheek. Hearing the elf finish his water, he rose, pressing a small kiss against the center of Ethari’s ear before happily taking the half-empty glass offered to him. Bringing his lips to the rim, Runaan made note of the excess droplets of water still left on the thin coating. Gingerly flicking his tongue, he accumulated the remnants onto his tongue, letting it absorb as he directed his attention towards the rest of the drink. Allowing the drink to slowly ebb towards his thinly parted lips, the warrior finished the glass, sparing a wink towards Ethari as he lowered the fragile object from his face. 

Ablaze with warmth, Ethari’s quickened heartbeats were one of many things on his mind, along with his slowly crumbling facade. He’d been paying no mind to his own growing arousal in favour of helping the attention remain on Runaan and the incredible feat he had been reaching after so much time and effort. Now though, it seemed as if he and the elf shared the same realizations and plan; a newer one. Still though, there was other, necessary work to do before he would let himself have his moment. 

If only his husband wasn’t being a little shit about it. 

He slid downwards, feeling the water slosh in his stomach as he wrapped himself around Runaan before resting his cheek against his warm chest. Facing downwards, he pressed a kiss into the inner circle that sat atop the elf’s now relaxed heartbeat before returning his gaze. “Was it easier than you expected?”

Contemplating this, Runaan tipped his head back, searching for a way to piece together his words. Moments later, he gently hugged the elf in his arms before drawing a breath to speak. “My fears painted a picture of turmoil, making it hard for me to find peace with the possibility of an unfavourable outcome. The idea of you--us--” he corrected himself, “putting so much time and emotion into this only to have something inevitable rise from an unknown, dark place, causing us to halt everything...pained me. I never wanted to lead you on, even if unwillingly.” 

Ethari frowned thoughtfully, trying to consider his husband’s way of seeing the world. “Almost like...a mission?” He pondered, only to feel the warrior shift with realization. 

“You’re right...that’s it. Mistakenly, I treated this as if I was bound to perfection.”

Extending his arm, the crafter pressed his hand to Runaan’s cheek, a flicker of warmth dazzling as the assassin leaned in before his skin had even touched his. “And you know I’d never raise you to impossible standards, yes?” he asked, his voice lowering as he spoke. “I would walk to the starting line, travel the world with you, then turn back halfway, if that’s what you wanted.”

The shimmering light of truth shone through the warrior; his husband’s words ringing through him like the calming sounds of the early morning. “It’s much easier to hear you say this than it is to rid myself of my looming fears. I couldn’t blame you for this--only inform.” 

Ethari considered this, lowering his chin so it rested on Runaan’s collarbone, his body hushedly rising and falling with each breath the elf below him took. Abruptly, he lured both of them out of their dazes, pointedly tapping the warrior’s temple with his thumb. “Ey, this is supposed to be fun, these escapades between you and I.” he began, pinching his face with an exaggerated sternness as his digit continued its movements. “Out with this gloominess, I won’t allow it in my bedroom.” 

Runaan looked at him dumbfoundedly, his eyebrows raised with genuine surprise at his husband’s obscure yet heartfelt commentary. 

“Bind yourself to that, pretty boy.” he finished, moving his offending finger to the tip of Runaan’s nose, booping it with purpose. 

The warrior’s shocked expression crumpled as he dissolved into laughter, turning his head to the side as he burrowed his face into his shoulder. “This is one of the many reasons why I love you.” 

“And I love you too.” Kissing along his chest, the crafter wiggled his fingers as he tickled Runaan, earning more snickers and approval. “Let’s vow to let ourselves enjoy all that we can. Good?” he tried.

The crafter’s smile was enough to encapsulate the same positivity and hope that gave Runaan the last seal of confidence he needed. Who would he be to let the incoherent, illogical snares of paranoia distract him from his wonderful, fun loving husband? “I admire that this’ll be easy with you here.” he observed.

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re plenty charming as well.”

Runaan’s stomach caved with a light chuckle. “Maybe so. Even then, I have your optimism and patience to credit for today’s success. “Oh? Our slow approach helped?" Ethari asked, his expression turning sincere as he positioned himself so he could study the other elf better. 

“Surely, it did. Each elongated moment gave me the chance to feel everything that may come, as opposed to if we had rushed things.”

“Makes sense.”

“Besides, I…” he continued, struggling to allow himself to finish his sentence. “Deserve better than that.”

His efforts were swiftly rewarded, as the strong arms that had lingered near his ribs relocated to his waist, tightening in a gesture of admiration. Ethari pressed his cheek against his chest, speaking against his skin. “You do. You deserve every bit of patience and understanding, and I will always take all the time you need.”

Running a hand down the crafter’s back, he returned the hug, tightening his grip as his breath loosened with the weight of his shame.

“You know what I also think?” he began, breaking the silence. 

Ethari hummed, reuniting his gaze with a swift movement. Runaan smiled, a glint in his eye. “Amidst the unhurriedness of it all, it almost felt as if we were making up for lost time.” 

The crafter propped himself up by a single arm, looking down at his husband with a similar expression. “We certainly have time for that.” 

Runaan closed the distance between them, the two meeting in a soft embrace. The air around them stood still, disturbed only by the timid breeze visible in the soft goosebumps rising on their skin, along with the occasional fluttering of the pearly drapes. 

Inching backwards, he observed the sight before him. “We most definitely do.” he agreed, his lips still inches away from Ethari’s. Languidly trailing his hand from where it rested between the elf’s shoulders, he gently pressed into each defined muscle scattered across the broad surface area, feeling the other gasp at the contact as the darkened blush returning to his cheeks as warmth reasserted itself amongst his skin. “May I make your time even more worthwhile?”

The elf’s eyes opened; copper looking into blue with nothing short of eagerness. A confirmation nearly slipped from him before he could control it--his mind spinning with the idea of the growing temptation within him finally being met. “You’re okay with that?” he asked. 

“Yes. Giving provides a much different effect than receiving does. I’m confident this will run much smoother.” 

“Alright, just let me know, okay?”

“I will.” Runaan promised, pecking Ethari’s lips gratefully. His hands travelled to the elf’s bare chest, the usual spark of heat that the crafter’s form usually evoked from him striking true as his hands made contact. Lingering for just a second longer than what’d be considered standard, he took a moment to provide himself with higher ground. Finding himself at an even level with the elf, he pressed both hands to Ethari’s pecs before pushing him onto the bed; a twinge of warmly welcomed roughness in his action. The crafter fell perfectly within the burrow of pillows that he’d set up earlier, internally praising himself for his exceptional pillow arranging skills. 

Runaan hovered over him, surveying him as if contemplating where to begin. A second later, he dropped down, pressing starved kisses along Ethari’s chest, unafraid to leave marks everywhere his mouth followed. His hands gripped the elf’s ribs, pulling him closer as if he were an oasis, much to the other's approval. 

“I’ve missed this.” the warrior rasped, his lips moving against the skin of the light blue markings splayed over Ethari’s left pec. A design similar to the one over his own heart and a sight mostly only seen by each other, it was a sight the elf cherished heartily. His nails dug into the crafter’s shoulder as he spoke.

Ethari writhed under his husband’s tempting care. “Please. I’m all yours.”

Runaan lifted himself, drawing closely to his husband’s face so they were merely inches apart. “Finally.” he spoke, his breath ghosting the other’s lips before the crafter desperately closed the space between them, breathing harshly against the elf’s lips. 

The ex-assassin gripped his husband’s face, holding his strong jaw with purpose as his other hand lingered downwards, sweeping graciously over Ethari’s strong form. His hand curled easily around his wide frame, holding onto him as he met his waist. With his lips still against his, Runaan ghosted his hand over the crafter’s middle--pride blooming in him as the elf’s hips bucked against his hand, desperate for contact. Leaving one more kiss on his lips, he moved downwards, kissing along his abdomen, dragging his tongue along the muscles he knew familiarly. 

Before he could go further, a nagging suspicion of his could no longer be ignored. “I think I’ll put another shirt on for this. Just to ensure security.” Runaan stated, almost appearing as if he was looking for his husband’s approval. 

Ethari regained his breath, quickly composing himself. “That’s okay. Whatever makes you feel safe, beautiful.” 

Runaan softened before pressing a short kiss of gratitude to the other’s forehead. He left the bed, opening their closet to pick up one of his usual sleeveless green shirts. Appreciating the choice, Ethari enjoyed the gracious view of his arms the garment provided, knowing he’d make his thoughts known as his feelings grew more heightened. 

He returned, approaching the bed in a focused, sultry way that made something in Ethari’s stomach drop in the best way. “From now on,” the warrior began, voice as low as the flickering of heat dancing in the elf’s abdomen, “This is about you, and you only.” His words were a promise, a declaration of his actions from there on out. 

An upbeat thumping made a grand performance of itself, boasting its presence within the elf’s chest. Exhaling shakily, he reclined backwards, positioning himself for a new display. Runaan returned to where had previously been--hovering over the crafter’s middle section with precise focus. Holding onto the waistband of his baggy white pants, he drew them off with an effortless motion, graceless with practice and precision. The warrior let his gaze rake over Ethari’s naked form; his smirk reaching his reddened cheeks before he leaned downwards, achingly close to the newly exposed area. 

Runaan’s hands cupped Ethari’s hips as he took each inch of his skin under his lips, rediscovering what he’d previously neglected. Once marked with the warmth of his lips, his tongue darted across his waist, navigating lower and lower with each motion. Ethari panted underneath him, feeling as if his insides were slowly tearing under the wetness of his husband’s tongue. 

Gliding effortlessly, Runaan slotted his hand under Ethari’s leg, giving the strong limb a quick squeeze before placing it over his shoulder, underneath the pointed indigo markings that stretched to over his left side. Soft gasps intensified as the assassin used the new angle to cup the other’s ass with his spare hand, squeezing it firmly as his teeth dug into his dark skin. 

“I much prefer this angle. Don’t you?”

Ethari clung to his shoulders, weakening at the sensation of his husband’s strength underneath his grip. “Definitely shows your competence.” he deadpanned; a small challenge. 

Taking the bait, Runaan pulled him closer. “I’ll show you competence.” Without hesitation, he closed his mouth over the elf’s cock, feeling a deep urge within him quelling satisfyingly before coming alive. His insides lit up as if he’d remembered the notes to an old, forgotten song--easily following the rhythm he’d loved so deeply. His hand curled around the shaft, covering what his mouth hadn’t yet reached. 

Pulling his lips away from his head, Runaan pressed downwards against the sensitive skin as he did so, employing a constant motion. “I definitely missed this as well.” 

“Mmff, I can tell.” Ethari stammered.

“I haven’t even started yet.” he retorted, chuckling under his breath. The crafter shot him a lighthearted glare--a subconscious reaction to the elf’s cockiness. Runaan distracted him by returning his mouth to his erection, flattening his tongue along the shaft in an elongated motion. Ethari writhed, sucking in a breath as his senses heightened; adrenaline coursing through his every limb. 

The warrior closed his lips over the head of his cock, providing suction before lowering his head, capturing more of Ethari into his mouth. His head rose and fell, establishing a slow yet pleasurable pace, delighting in the way his husband shivered with his every touch. His hand worked slowly, applying pressure to each inch of the erection, regaining his muscle memory. Ethari’s hands softened where they sat on Runaan’s shoulders, the deep tension within them releasing in exchange for softer motions, drawing widespread circles against the spherical markings. The warrior hummed peacefully, evoking vibrations that sung deeply throughout the other’s core. 

Sliding his hand upwards towards Ethari’s lower thigh, he cupped the strong muscle, bringing it closer to his face as he dropped a number of kisses against the flesh of his inner thigh. Runaan pursued each inch he could reach, his upturned lips dancing innocently against soft skin. 

“I was wrong before. Your love is art.” He whispered, voice slightly muffled from where his lips met his skin, eyelashes fluttering like an excitable child’s legs.

Ethari made a soft sound, punctuated by a soft chuckle. “Says the one being poetic about giving head.”

“It’s much more than that.” He replied. His eyes closed in a moment of silent appreciation as his cheek pressed against soft skin before opening a moment later. “Though I could show my heart in other ways that involve my mouth.”

Setting a strand of hair behind Runaan’s ear, a quick sound of amusement shook him. “I almost thought you’d forgotten.” 

“You’re solely mistaken.” Kissing his way back towards the other’s middle, each embrace delivered itself with more emphasis than its predecessor. His hands returned to hold Ethari by his waist, thumbs digging deep into his hipbone as he grasped his erection with his spare hand. He returned to work, his hand following the motions his mouth procured. Runaan’s tongue flattened against the erection—finally giving what he’d been holding back. Ethari gasped, tightening his hold on his husband’s shoulders; a litany of slurred repetitions of his name escaping him. 

His tongue curved around the thickness, poking and enveloping in alternating motions. Stars flocked behind Ethari’s eyes, the world around him softening at the edges and well, all over, in contrast to his quickly tensing muscles. Grounded only by the assassin’s possessive hand that gripped his bum, he made a loud sound of pleasure, unable to hold back. He waded through the expanse of his pleasure; his husband’s gracious and precise givings serving him a waterfall of pleasure. His senses climbed like trellises throughout his entire body, perpetually igniting despite whether or not Runaan was giving or holding back. As if it had a mind of its own, his body sung, turned on like a light switch from the assassin’s mere touch. 

Rising, Runaan’s tongue flicked against the head, covering each inch of thin, sensitive skin before letting his lips follow his tongue downwards as he engulfed his cock. Ethari shuddered, leaving indents in his shoulders as he pulled him closer. 

Runaan looked up at him, a juvenile strand of hair crossing his forehead as he did so. “You’re quite beautiful like this; receiving the bountiful pleasure you deserve.” 

“Fuck…” he stammered, wiping his bangs away from where they’d stuck to his forehead. “Still poetic, huh?” 

“I don't know how I manage it. I don't know how I manage you.” 

Ethari’s chest rose and fell harshly, his leg pressing down on the warrior’s strong back. “Keep talking like that and…hhff…I might…ah…”

The elf sped up his motions, busying his clever mouth with any way he could make his husband feel good. Covering the erection with the wetness of his mouth, he ran his tongue along the shaft, using each spare inch to continue the most effective rhythm. His grasp inched higher, reaching just below Ethari’s head as his lips engulfed the sensitive top, earning a soft dusting of the day’s breeze against his arm as the crafter lurched into the air, alive with ecstasy. 

As gravity pulled him back onto the bed, Runaan’s hand traveled to his thigh once more, squeezing the defined flesh greedily. Looking upwards, he found his husband flushed and on the brink of alleviated tension, his eyes shut in the way they always did; mouth agape with words he couldn’t speak. 

Ethari's eyes opened, eager for an extra glimpse of the elf below him before his own action became his undoing—striking, impassioned blue eyes sending shockwaves through him. His breath shortened, his tensing muscles pulling him deeper. Ushering his husband closer, he felt time catch up to him in mere seconds, thrown over the edge by Runaan’s quick hand. 

Hand still curled around the erection, the warrior slowed his motions, quietly kissing along Ethari’s hip as pleasure overtook him. Dark skin bloomed with warmth underneath his lips, earning himself a small smile. An added layer of ease sung through him, knowing each inch of his husband’s pleasure was because of him. Time had slowed and allowed him the ability to give back in new, previously withdrawn ways. True, his husband’s pleasure was his own, only more so in this moment. 

Reality returned to Ethari, the softness of the sheets coming into his senses as his head stilled from its dizzying axis. He breathed, gathering his bearings before flattening his hand against Runaan’s back, gently pulling him closer. Without hesitation, the warrior rose, hovering over the other. Through lidded eyes, Ethari smiled warmly at him, satisfaction lining his expression. 

“Come here.” He murmured, beckoning him closer. 

With the gap between them closed, Ethari made a soft sound against his lips, feeling light as air as they embraced. He smiled through a sigh, smoothing his hand through Runaan’s hair in a delicate descent. 

Pulling away, Runaan pressed a short kiss to the side of Ethari’s lips and then his cheek, nuzzling into the exposed skin of his ear. He pushed aside the long fringe dangling over his husband’s left eye before observing him closely. “Worth the wait?” 

“Completely.” He affirmed, leaning into his touch. 

The warrior smiled, leaning in to press a kiss between the other’s eyes. Leaving the room, he quickly returned with a fresh rag to clean the elf with. Smoothing it over the bare skin of his chest, his cheeks grew warm as he felt Ethari’s gaze remain trained on him, steadfast and emotive. Seconds before Runaan could shift himself out of reach, Ethari rose, mustering up the small amount of strength left in his limp form to press a brief kiss to his cheek, earning an adorably surprised, then smitten expression. 

Having discarded the small towel, Runaan turned to his husband. “Lover elf.”

A sound of quiet amusement sounded—Ethari matching the sound with shut eyes and a small smile. “Give me a moment before I respond. Must be witty enough.” 

The warrior shook with a fond chuckle. “This, I will allow you.” Gathering the hand closest to him, he pressed the worn fingers against his own, noticing how they instinctively curled in sync with the motion. He brought them to his lips, leaving feathery kisses along the lengths of his long fingers, allowing the air to once again fill the room, washing into each crevice and wrinkle of linen. Ethari tipped his head back, filling his lungs with steady breaths of air as endorphins rushed along his insides, buzzing like the peaceful hum of a flock of night moths. 

With a quick motion, the halfhearted hold of fingers against fingers strengthened as Ethari pulled Runaan out of his quiet contemplation, ushering him closer. He tilted his gaze upwards just in time to catch the gently surprised expression that’d flashed across the warrior’s face at the sudden action, causing his mussed-with-daze smile to grow in more ways than one. Runaan adjusted quickly, lowering so the length of his chest was parallel to his husband’s chin; matching up perfectly with the shifting of bed sheets. 

Laying his cheek against the small bump of muscle below Runaan’s collarbones, Ethari took pause, soaking in the tranquility of the solid surface before drifting to his throat, pressing his nose there. His temple gravitated forward, completing the puzzle piece of contact. A sound rumbled low in his throat, matched with an arm crossing over his husband’s middle as he pulled him even closer. 

Runaan felt a sense of peace overtake him, drawing him in through each of his senses. He leaned in, desperate to complete any missing inch of space between him and his lover. He hesitated to take Ethari’s hand once more, knowing it’d disrupt the nearly perfect balance he’d put together.

“Have you gathered your wits yet?” He asked, filling the only space left with words.

Ethari smiled, a sound of fondness adding music to his expression. “Not when you’re this warm.” He replied, adding an extra nuzzle to further solidify his stance. 

Runaan pressed his nose into the upturned hair that tickled his cheek as he contemplated what to do with the warmth that now frothed within him. “My affection afflicts me, corroding anything less than my warmest appearance.” 

Approving, Ethari moved in closer, letting his skin warm against the bare slivers of his husband’s skin with a sigh. “There you go, with a mouth full of sweetness.”

“Why not? Of course, after filling my mouth with something else…” he mused, smirking to himself. The crafter was quick to face him, eyeing him with the same amount of amusement. 

“You’re clever, huh?” Ethari poked, leaning in to reward him for his mischief. Runaan accepted his praise, his pride still evident in his curved lips. “I’m impressed your shirt remains unblemished.” He remarked, observing the still clean green fabric. 

“You doubt my precision?”

The elf snorted. “I hadn’t considered you approaching my dick the same way you would a blade.”

“You underestimate me. I pride myself on handling both effectively and swiftly, excelling in every way I know I can.”

Ethari smiled, turning unexpectedly fond. “There’s that confidence.” His tone matched the warmth behind his words. “Feels like the sun.”

With a sigh, Runaan let his head fall evenly against the top of his husband’s head. “And you are my breeze—guiding me.” 

Now it was Ethari’s turn to kiss silently along the warrior’s hand, letting the seconds of silence turn into minutes. The feeling of alertness assigned to an important occurrence faded, settling into an almost humorous feeling of normalcy. Runaan contemplated this, an all too realistic sensation of puzzle pieces falling into place aligning in his mind’s eye.

“Love?” Ethari asked, breaking the silence.

The elf leaned into him, his reply.

“You may not know this, that is fine, but, could you foresee this happening again? Or will you need another while?” he asked.

“I think a door has been opened. Through this I can predict many new feelings and chances. With you, I am more than willing to try.”

His voice was steady, filled with the same decisiveness that Ethari had recognized from the elf he’d known years ago—one that hadn’t seen the ends of the earth through what felt like a lifetime of pain and solitude. One that hadn’t learned to flinch at typically underwhelming sounds or hide away for fear of further breaking his own heart with unfounded mistakes. Laying beside him was somebody who had grown through the pain and rekindled it to match his own flame, the one that both of them knew could never truly be extinguished.

Gingerly poking his knee with his, he smiled as the crevices of his legs slid against Runaan's as they both settled against the bed, and everything was okay.


End file.
